LoNeLY
by Poison1234
Summary: When one is lonely, they can be led to the brink of insanity until the point that they cannot be saved. And by that time, they will wish for a friend's companionship... However, they would never get it.
1. Prologue

England gave a heavy sigh, a deep frown appearing on his face. His thick eyebrows furrowed in frustration as he glared at the ritual circle that was laid before him, innocently staring back at him.

"Come on, you bloody thing," he exclaimed, stomping his foot, "Why won't you work?"

The Brit opened up his spell book once more, pouting. He gave another sigh.

"One more try," he muttered, "This time, it has to work!"

England slowly closed his eyes, relaxing his breathing. The air began to pick up around him as he began to chant.

"Sol supra horizontem…. Adhuc tenebræ evertit calor…. Quod inest in noctis aeternae unumquemvis…. Vocavi te!"

The air became a hurricane, twirling in an uncontrollable vortex. It flung England off his feet with a grunt of surprise. He landed with a thud on the stone cold floor. A chilling laugh echoed throughout the dungeon chamber, making him shiver as he sat up.

The candles of the ritual circle had long since gone out, the smoke coming to gather in the air above it. Suddenly, a large gust of wind swept the smoke away. The wooden door banged open as the dark mist escaped the confines of England's dungeons.

The Brit had sat frozen during it all, a face of sheer disbelief appearing. He let out a shaky breath. The entire room was dead silent except for his breathing.

"W-What….?" England shook his head.

"W-What was that," he asked the darkness.

The darkness didn't respond. It seemed to laughing at him, mocking him and his stupid mistake.

"_W-why did I do that?" _he thought, staring down at the floor, _"I don't even know what that could do…. It didn't even come with any description! It felt like evil incarnate…. I shouldn't have done that!"_

The English man leapt to his feet, throwing his cloak to the floor and storming up out of his basement. He raced to the phone, dialing the number of one of his fellow nations.

"I need to warn them… We don't know what that thing could do!"

* * *

**Sol supra horizontem…. Adhuc tenebræ evertit calor…. Quod inest in noctis aeternae unumquemvis…. Vocavi te! - The sun rises above the horizon. Yet darkness overthrows the warmth. The eternal night that resides within everyone. I summon you!**

**This was way more complicated then it needed to be…. Okay, so I worked on this when my religion class had the computer lab for the period. So, naturally since I wanted to work on this at home, I sent it to myself. But for some fucking reason, it refused to work. **

**So then, I went through all of these ways to make it work. Then, when I was about to give up…. It worked. It. Fucking. Worked. I don't even-! *Flips desk* **


	2. World Meeting

Italy smiled excitedly as he turned up the heat of the stove, slightly humming to himself. He let the pasta sit, moving over to the other pot and giving the sauce a stir.

"I'm making pasta for Germany," he sang, "Pasta, pasta for Germany! Pasta, pasta, pasta, pasta, pasta for Germany~!" Said nation was sitting at the wooden table, idly reading a newspaper, scowl loosening as he listened to his friend singing.

As Italy continued, he nodded his head to an imaginary beat. The song kept repeating over and over, yet he didn't care. No, the only thing he cared about right now was making pasta for his best friend.

"Ve~," the Italian turned to the other nation, "C'mon Germany! Sing with me!"

Germany gave a sigh, looking up at him as he lowered his newspaper.

"I'd rather not…," he muttered, lifting up the paper once more. Italy pouted, putting down the spoon and bounced his way over and grabbing onto Germany's arm.

"Ve~ C'mon Germany! It's fun," he exclaimed, pulling. The German didn't move from his seat, even though Italy was pulling with all his strength. Finally, the Italian slumped to the ground, panting heavily from exhaustion.

The stove made a beeping noise, making the two raise their heads to the pasta. Italy grinned, standing and rushing over as he continued his cooking, Germany giving a sigh of relief.

This pattern continued for a few more hours.

"_I love pasta," _Italy thought to himself as he continued humming, _"Especially making pasta for Germany! He loves Italian pasta, of that I know for certain!" _

He lifted up the noodles, placing the pot into the sink and letting the water cool down from boiling. He then took a plate and waited impatiently, tapping his fingers on the kitchen counter.

"_Germany's such a good friend," _Italy continued, _"He's so helpful and smart! And I'm really glad that he takes care of me when I'm in trouble!" _

All of a sudden, a strange cold feeling swept through him, making Italy shudder. Almost immediately, he could feel something weird come over him. The Italian frowned, his fingers stopping their tapping.

"_W-Why did it get so cold," _he asked himself. Italy looked down to the pasta, his cheery grin coming back onto his face.

"Germany! Germany, the pasta is ready~!"

The nation in question glanced up, a small smile flickering onto his face. It disappeared when a soft ringing was heard and Germany reached into his jacket pocket for his cellphone.

"Hallo?" Italy leaned in curiously as his friend listened. Germany's face had turned serious, frowning as he listened to the frantic words of the voice on the other end.

"Very well, we'll be there soon." Germany ended the call. Italy immediately grabbed his arm.

"Germany, who was that? Do they want pasta too?" His fellow nation sighed, shaking his head.

"It was England," he replied, "and he's calling a World Meeting."

The two fell into silence before a grin broke its way onto Italy's face.

"Can I bring pasta?"

* * *

"Dudes, whatever the crisis is, I'm the Hero, so you can count on me!"

A sigh.

"America, we don't have time for this. Now, the reason why-!"

"I'm the Hero! I'm the Hero!"

"Shut up you bloody wanker! What's with it with you and your heroes?"

"Oh my~ Are England and America fighting again~? Must be a new world record!"

"Does anyone want to sample some new Chinese cuisine aru?"

"I agree with America-kun…"

"You always agree with America!"

"Kolkolkolkolkol-!"

"THAT IS ENOUGH!" Germany slammed his fists down on the meeting room table, making everyone jump, though not entirely surprised. It's happened so many times now, that they've all become unconsciously used to it.

"WE'RE HERE SO THAT ENGLAND CAN TELL US SOME IMPORTANT NEWS THAT CONCERNS US ALL, NOT ABOUT HEROES! NOW, IF ANYONE ELSE HAS ANYTHING TO SAY BESIDES ENGLAND, YOU WILL HAVE A TOTAL OF EIGHT MINUTES TO SPEAK; NO INTERRUPTIONS OR BREAKS! DO YOU ALL UNDERSTAND?"

The silence that followed clearly stated that they all understood. Germany gave an approving nod before sitting back down in his seat.

"It's all yours England," he said. The Brit gave a cough, standing from his chair. His green eyes scanned the room.

"I called you all here today…. Because I made a mistake."

Everyone stared at England questioningly.

"A few hours ago," he continued, pushing away from the table and making his way to the blackboard, "I was practicing my magic."

"Aren't you always practicing that strange mumbo jumbo," Prussia asked. The albino was leaning against the wall beside the door, tilting his head. England sent a glare his way before he turned back to the board and picking up a chalk piece. He then began to draw.

"The spell was strange," he continued, "It had no description to what it would do. However, it did come with instructions on how to perform the ritual." He put down the chalk, gesturing to the runic circle that had been drawn.

"So, I, being curious, decided to test it."

"It is a bit risky to test without concrete evidence on what it would do, da," Russia asked. England shook his head, sighing.

"It is," the Brit agreed, "However, I felt as if something was pushing for me to do it. So, I did." He walked back over to his seat, hands landing on the table.

"It wasn't what I expected," he continued, "Whatever the spell did, it seemed to have summoned some type of creature, its nature of which I have no clue. It felt like evil incarnate."

"So…" Everyone turned to China, who wore a worried expression.

"So, some…. Thing has been unleashed into the world," the Chinese man continued, "and we aren't sure what it could do?" England nodded firmly.

Whispers broke out between many of the others. England raised a hand and they all fell silent once more.

"All I can say is to be careful," he said, "we don't know where or what it might be."

There were many nods all over the room. Then, the meeting was dismissed.

* * *

**Shorter then I would have liked, but oh well…. **

**Happy birthday to me! Happy birthday to me! Happy birthday to me…. Happy birthday to me! **

**Anyways… I always hate the beginnings of stories. It takes such a long time to start the plot! Trust me, it'll get more interesting in later chapters. **


	3. Preferred to be Forgotten

China sighed, pulling out the keys to his house.

"_To think that we have this to worry about in addition to our own problems aru," _he thought, pushing the unlocked door open. After closing it behind him, the Chinese man looked around.

By the time he had gotten home, night had fallen and dark shadows had been cast over the old house. China turned on the lights, taking off his shoes and dropping his bag to the floor.

It was then that he realized how quiet it was.

China didn't like to think of the silence often. It brought up many memories, all painful in a way, from a time when the house was brimming with life and loud laughter. But now, he couldn't help it.

The quiet made him feel anxious and he wrapped his arms around himself as he made his way to the kitchen.

Cooking usually calmed him, so China turned on the stove and began.

However, as he chopped up the vegetables, his mind wandered back to the meeting.

"_A monster of some type aru? It's almost like what you find in a nightmare," _he thought. Then, China shook his head.

Just thinking about nightmares brought up some of his own, and he quickly pushed them out of mind. China placed the vegetables into a pot full of water, placing it on the stove. He turned on the heat before going to the fridge and pulling out some barbeque pork that he had left from the night before.

Nowadays, all the meals he made were never finished. They were simply placed into the fridge and were used as leftovers for the rest of the week.

China began to cut the pork swiftly and deftly as he thought to himself.

"_It's so quiet aru…. Was it always like this?" _He let out a wince, dropping the knife. The blade landing on the ground was loud in the quiet house.

Red droplets fell to the wooden floor from his fingers. China raised his hand, clenching the injured appendage into a fist. The blood gushed out slowly coating his pale skin in the bright red. He stood there, silently observing as the red liquid fell to the floor.

Finally, China snapped out of the slight daze and walked slowly over to the sink. He let the cold water run over the cut.

Bright red blood ran down the drain. He watched until all of it was gone, his face expressionless as he reached for the dish cloth, wrapping his hand in it. He then went to one of the cabinets, pulling out bandages and a first aid kit.

"_Was I… Cutting myself the entire time?" _China looked over to the meat on the counter. Indeed, it didn't seem to have been touched by the blade at all. He took off the wet cloth, the white bleached in red, and placed it on the table. Then, he proceeded to wrap the bandages around.

"How could I not have noticed?"

Once his injury was treated, China turned off the stove and took the vegetables out of the pot, drying them before placing it back into the fridge. The pork soon followed.

He closed the door with a sigh before leaving the kitchen.

Laughter seemed to mock him as he climbed the stairs of his empty house. Each of the steps creaked as he put his weight onto them.

Once he reached the second floor, he walked past the many empty rooms until he reached his own at the end of the hall.

However, unlike the times before, China turned back and looked at each door in turn. He could name who had lived there. Many of the things they left behind were untouched after so many years for he couldn't find the will to put them away.

Then there were the two that he would rather forget.

So, he did, entering his room and closing the door behind him.

"Why do I suddenly remember all of this," he asked his panda. Panda didn't answer back, simply stared at him. China sighed.

He quickly changed into his nightclothes. However, he pulled out another futon from his closet, setting Panda on it and covering him with a blanket.

China no longer had anyone to tuck in except this silent, but constant companion. This stuffed bear was the only one who didn't leave him. He could remember all the names of the ones who did.

He let his hair fall from its ponytail. He stared at his reflection for what seemed like hours.

_They_ had said that they loved his hair. It was soft and felt like the finest of Chinese silks.

_They_ had said that they loved his eyes. The brown eyes were ancient yet still showed slight innocence and girlish features of a young teenage boy.

_They_ had said that they loved _him_. Yet they all left him. One by one, each left. And he didn't know why. Had he done something wrong?

China sniffed, wiping away a tear that fell as he turned from the mirror. Something caught his eye and he turned back to look at it.

A simple hair clip, that's all it was. However, it was elaborately designed and shined slightly in the light of the moon. Beside it was a pair of gloves, worn with age.

He stared at the two objects blankly. They were two polar opposites and yet so similar. They were given to him by _them_.

China closed his eyes tightly, grabbing the objects. Opening his dresser drawer, he stuffed them inside. Then he closed it and fell to the floor sobbing.

China slept uneasily that night, dreams of times long past assaulting his mind. Yet, the names and faces of them all were constant.

Japan

Vietnam

Taiwan

North Korea

South Korea

Russia

Hong Kong

England

* * *

He woke up the next morning, tears still falling down his cheeks. He grabbed onto Panda tightly and sobbed into the soft fabric.

When the tears ceased a half hour later, China changed and left the house, a fake smile covering his face as the mask hid all the true emotions underneath.

* * *

**Two chapters in one day? Aiyah! I'm completely crazy…. **


	4. Best Left Ignorant

America grinned, waving to his brother Canada as he left his car. He watched as his younger brother opened the door to his home and went inside. Only then did he allow the smile to fade.

America pulled out of the Canadian's driveway, sighing.

"_Sometimes," _he thought as he drove down the busy streets, _"I can't help but wonder…"_

He wasn't a complete idiot like the others believed.

As America finally reached his own house, he parked the car and stepped out, loosening his tie. Pulling out his key, he unlocked the front door and made his way inside.

The old house was clean. He let out a soft snort. It was most likely the forgotten influence of someone that had been dear to him.

He put his jacket onto the hook and stretched.

By the time he had gotten home, the sun was still high in the sky. It made him smile as he looked out the window. America loved the sun.

He shook his head, turning away. He made his way to his bedroom, climbing up the stairs and humming to himself. He turned down the hallway to the first door on the left.

When he opened the door however, America was assaulted with how messy his room was compared to the rest of the house. He frowned.

He wasn't sure why, but as he walked into his room, America felt an unexpected urge.

He began to pick up the dirty clothes from the floor, not entirely conscious on what he was doing, and put them into the laundry bin. Soon, books were placed back onto their shelves in a surprisingly neat and orderly fashion. He made his bed and then took out the vacuum from the closet. When he was done, he stood back and looked at his work.

"Well," he said out loud, "that was really weird."

America shook his head, sighing. As he went to his dresser, the American couldn't help but think to himself. He wasn't an idiot like the others wanted to believe, he did indeed have a brain. He thought about how the others were around him.

Once he grabbed his clothes, America made his way to the bathroom.

"_They're always exasperated," _he thought as he stripped, _"Then, when I say something, they get angry. And then they start spending so much time trying to tell me what to do!" _America felt a wave of anger come over him but he shrugged it down.

He turned the water on, relishing in the heat of the liquid as it slid down his sides.

"_England and I are probably the ones who argue the most though," _he continued, _"It's weird. We never used to do that. Though, I guess things change, huh?" _

As he kept pondering this, America was stabbed with a realization.

"_I never really thought about it, but… Canada has always been ignored, hasn't he? I mean like, more so than usual." _

Canada is America's brother, and despite everything, he really cares for him. America tries his hardest to spend time with Canada as much as he can, since many of the other nations just forget about him. His brother is so easy to forget.

Sometimes, America would forget that he's in the room. Yet, he would never forget that his little brother _existed_. Not like the others.

The anger returned, making the world power tense. America turned the water off, stepping out of the shower and grabbing a towel from the nearby rack. He quickly dried his hair as well as the rest of his body and grabbed his razor after he wrapped the towel around his waist.

America then took the facial cream, and after lathering and smoothing it all over his jaw, he began to shave.

"_I'm not usually this angry, am I? Weird," _he thought.

Lately, the world had gotten more demanding. America had many debts to pay off, some more then centuries years old. Then there were also the problems that occur within his country on a daily basis. These problems seemed to have gotten worse, and he wasn't sure why.

As he thought about it, the nation found that whenever he mentioned his problems during a meeting, the others would just respond back that he was whining.

They go through the same problems themselves and they whine about it as well. Why couldn't he?

When someone asks for help and America responds that he could, they call him arrogant. Yet they accept help from other countries without too much of a fuss.

During World War 2, England and France had been pressing for him to help them fight against the Axis Powers. Yet when he refused they had gotten all personal about it. The only reason he joined the Allies was because of the bombing of Pearl Harbour by Japan. Much like how in the previous war, America only joined in the fighting because of something someone else had done.

"_Why do they do that kind of thing?" _America gave a wince, putting the razor back onto the counter. He looked into the mirror, turning his face so he could see the gash better.

Red dribbled down his cheek and hit the counter before him. He simply stared at it before taking a cloth. After he had wetted it with faucet water, America dabbed at his cheek.

The red was immediately absorbed by the cloth, yet the blood just kept on flowing. The nation could feel a slight tug appear at the corner of his lips and he gave his reflection a smile. Once he realized what he was doing, gently poking the sides of the wound so the blood would flow quicker, America's smile disappeared and he began to clean the cut.

"_This is starting to get really weird," _America thought to himself. When the blood finally came to a stop, he cleaned up the dried red liquid as best he could before leaving the bathroom, troubled.

As he walked down the hall, he found himself taking a glance at the clock. His eyes widened.

"Crap," he exclaimed, tearing to his room and grabbing a jacket from the closet, "I totally forgot!"

In a rush, the nation quickly locked the house before he hopped into his car and headed to the airport. He had a meeting to attend.

And as he drove, he slowly began to forget about all the troubles that he had mulled over, hoping that it wasn't true. But it was probably best that he shouldn't have thought about it in the first place. Seeds of doubt were planted in his mind and America couldn't ignore the feelings of rage that had been brought to the surface.

* * *

**And there's another chapter done…. One more to go before the plot really kicks off. **


	5. The Innocent are Slain

He waved goodbye to Germany, grinning madly as the nation drove off. Italy quickly entered his house, humming to himself, the day's events running through his mind.

Making pasta for Germany, singing for Germany, trying to get Germany to sing, making pasta for Germany, the meeting…. The meeting.

Italy immediately stopped that train of thought. The meeting. The meeting that England held about that strange Thingamawhatsit.

The nation opened the backdoor of his house, stepping out into his backyard, smile gone as he stared up at the sky. It looked like it was about to rain.

"_I-I don't like how England phrased that," _he thought, shivering as a breeze swept through, _"Ve, it's really scary…. Maybe I should call Germany…."_

But as he went back inside and reached for the phone, something stopped him.

"_W-What if….. Germany doesn't want to be bothered? What if Germany doesn't have time to help me?" _Italy stared at the device on the wall, silently pleading it to help him decide. Then, another thought occurred to him, scaring the Italian even more.

"_What if Germany doesn't _want_ to help me?" _At this, Italy shook his head, backing away from the phone.

"_I'll try to deal with this on my own…" _Italy went back outside, closing the door behind him.

He stared up into the dark clouds above him, thunder booming and early cracks of lightning responded in the distance. A faint drop of water fell on his nose before the rain began.

Italy stood there, staring into the clouds as the rain poured down. His heart clenched as he gulped. A memory from long ago was in his mind. One of a loveable grandpa who carried him on his back around and around. Then, another replaced it. One of a little boy wearing a hat too big and a coat too long.

"Holy Rome…." Lightning crashed, yet Italy didn't seem to register it.

"_Holy Rome, why did you go?" _Unconsciously, Italy began to cry.

"He promised! He promised he would come back!" The Italian fell to his knees, sobbing. He pounded the ground with his fists, crying his heart out and screaming to the heavens. Then finally, he stopped.

Simply kneeling in the mud as the rain poured down around him, Italy stared blankly. Nothing seemed to register in him, like the shiver that went down his spine from the wind or the cold water as it soaked through his coat.

"… Why…"

"… Why didn't you come back…?"

* * *

It was sunny the next day when Italy awoke, groaning as he stretched. He shakily stood from the wet ground, his legs numb from not moving for over a few hours.

Limping, Italy pushed the backdoor open and made his way through the house, dripping water along the floor. He went up to his bedroom, changing from his wet suit and into a t-shirt and shorts. Then, he went back downstairs and into the kitchen.

Italy started to make pasta without his usual cheer, a frown on his face as he added the sauce. As he finished cooking, he sat down at his dining room table and dug in.

Only to spit it out.

Coughing, Italy wiped his mouth with his napkin, staring at the pasta.

"_I-It tastes weird," _he thought, _"….Like it's missing something…." _

The Italian slowly stood from his chair, taking the plate of pasta and throwing it out. He then grabbed his keys and left the house, locking the door safely behind him.

Italy wandered for hours, hands in his pockets, not knowing where his feet were leading him. He found that he didn't really care either. Finally, he found himself looking around at his surroundings, a smile coming onto his face.

"Vehehe," he chuckled, "I'm in Spain! I wonder why though…"

There were many rolling hills and Italy strolled oddly confident as he scanned the country side. He wasn't sure what he was looking for, but he stopped when he saw one of the Spanish farmers working on his fields. Quickly, he hid behind a tree, leaning out ever so slightly to peer at the man.

The Spaniard appeared to be no more than 40 years old, with dark brown hair and startling blue eyes. He was sweating rather heavily from the work he was doing and he hummed to himself. Then a voice called from a distance and Italy watched as the man looked up and smiled at the beautiful woman who ran to him.

He spun her around in circles before holding her close, whispering sweet nothings into her ear. She would giggle in response, playfully hitting him as she grinned.

Oddly enough, Italy felt…. Sickened. He never had a problem with public affection before, he himself jumped Germany more times then was reasonable. His hands clenched into fists as his eyes narrowed into a glare.

"_Why are they happy when I'm so upset," _he asked, _"Why don't I deserve the happiness they have?" _

And then Italy began plotting.

* * *

Many hours later, Spain stumbled in his walk, much to the surprise of Romano. He simply brushed off the comments that the Italian snapped at him, though he knew.

Some of his people had been killed.

* * *

**I just really want to get this plot started…. I'm sorry for the rushed chapter, though this was what I had planned anyways. **


	6. Unnatural Smile

It was the time of the monthly world conference, a time in which all of the countries in the world gather together to try to solve the world's problems.

Usually, attempts at such meetings were pointless since everyone argued nonstop. That was until Germany would call for everyone's attention and they would more or less get down to business. This peace would never last long however, and they would begin arguing once more until Germany would give up and dismiss them. This meeting was different though.

Many nations were worried about the monster that England had accidently unleashed, unsure of what it would do.

While others were skeptical, simply believing that it was one of his fantasies that he conjured, yet the doubt still lingered in their minds.

Either way, they were all simply waiting.

* * *

Once everyone was seated, Germany stood and addressed the gathered nations.

"Now, we're going to begin this meeting with an important matter that was brought up in the emergency meeting a couple weeks ago," the German said, turning to England.

"Has there been any news?"

"None that I could find so far," the Brit replied. He shook his head, huffing.

"Usually, sensing such a thing would be easier but…."

At this, most of the skeptical nations gave out sighs of relief.

"I have no choice," England continued, "but to ask my brothers for aid in this matter. They know more about magic and its nature then I."

"Very well then," Germany nodded before turning to the others.

"Let's get onto the topic of global warming…"

* * *

Germany had called a slight break from the meeting, for many of the countries were getting too riled up over the topics discussed. America stood a ways off to the side of the room, speaking to China.

"So," he began, grinning, "about those trade agreements that we discussed a couple weeks ago…"

"Ah yes," China nodded, small smile on his face, "my boss wanted me to tell you that we are considering it aru. New trade between China and the United States of America would bring good business to our stock markets. He mentioned that he wanted another meeting to finalise the details."

"I'll let my boss know," America replied, "He's getting pretty busy, but we'll let you know of a time that's good, if that's alright."

"It's perfectly fine aru," China responded, "We'll await your call."

"Hey Spain," America called, turning and waving to the Spaniard.

"You okay man?" Spain had been walking away from the buffet table, a slight limp in his leg. He looked over, slowly making his way to the two. China had an expression of concern on his face when he noticed.

"Not too bad," the Spaniard said, stopping and grinning at them. America frowned.

"You sure," he asked.

"That limp looks painful aru," China added, gesturing to the body part. Spain shrugged, though he sighed.

"It's nothing really," he said, "There's just been some problems in my country as of recently."

"Oh? What's the matter," America asked. Once more the Spaniard shrugged.

"Some of my people," he replied with sadly, "I'm afraid there might be a murderer on the loose, though I'm confident in my police. They'll catch him."

"I'm sorry to hear about that aru," China replied, wincing, "Though I have to wonder how many…."

"Not as much as you think," Spain replied, "Most of the country folk are making their way into their closest cities though, just to be safe."

"I hope that gets better soon." Spain gave a smile to America.

"So do I," he said, "The borders now have increased shifts and everyone who enters or leaves the country is thoroughly checked. We plan to catch this guy as quick as possible."

"Ve~! I brought pasta~!" Everyone turned their head to look at Italy, who had just placed a pot of steaming noodles onto the buffet table. It smelled delicious.

"I better hurry and get some before it's all gone," Spain said before he quickly limped over to the line that had now formed. Italy's pasta was the best and you would be lucky if you managed to get any before the nations devoured it.

America barked a laugh.

"Come on China," he said, "let's hurry!" The Chinese man gave a small smile, shaking his head.

"I'd rather not…."

"Have you not tried Italy's pasta?" America's big blue eyes made the elder sigh.

"No," he replied, "though I never really had too much of a reason to…." America frowned.

"Stay here," he said seriously, pointing at the ground where his fellow nation stood. The American then made his way over to the line, grabbing both a plate of pasta as well as a fork and chopsticks for China.

* * *

As the nations took bites of the delicious pasta, the first thing they noticed was the taste.

It was much different from what it used to be, throwing many of them off. Before, the sauce had a wonderful herb-like flavor, mixing in perfectly with the rest of the spices that had been used. It tasted fresh and was vibrant in its scent.

Now though, the sauce had a touch of metallic to it. It mixed in well with the pasta, however it didn't taste _right_ in any sense of the word…. They gave Italy their compliments, though they couldn't help but feel slightly nauseous after they were finished eating…..

* * *

America handed the chopsticks to China, taking the fork before he dug in. He paused as he chewed thoughtfully before grinning like a child on Christmas day. He looked over to Italy with the huge smile on his face.

"Italy! This is amazing," he exclaimed, "It was really good before but _damn_, it's perfect now!"

At this, China raised an eyebrow before using the chopsticks and taking a few strands for himself. Much like America, he thought of the taste as he ate it. Then he smiled and took a few more.

"America's right, Italy," he commented, much to the amazement of the other nations, "This is very well done aru! What kind of ingredients did you use? I think I might incorporate a few into my own dishes…."

Italy giggled, rubbing the back of his head.

"That's a bit of a secret," he explained, winking, "Though, I'm really glad you like it so much!"

Italy then yawned, stretching.

"Well," he said, making his way to his chair and pulling off his backpack, "I'm gonna go. I'm really tired all of a sudden…"

"Do you want me to drive you Italy," Germany asked. Italy shook his head.

"Vehehe, I'll be fine," the Italian replied, waving as he left the room, "Grazie for the offer though Germany!"

Said nation stared at the door that his friend had left through with a surprised expression, one that was mimicked by many of the others. Italy, turning down Germany's offer to drive him home? Since when did that kind of thing happen? The only ones who didn't seem to have noticed were America and China, the two finishing the plate of Italy's pasta.

Once done, China grabbed his bag from his chair.

"I'm off," he said, giving everyone a small smile as he left the room.

* * *

China had been a bit more withdrawn during the meeting, even though he wore a large smile on his face. He tried to sell many of his products to the others, though his actions were not as enthusiastic as they had once been.

Though, not many of the others noticed as they had with Italy. Japan was one of those who did.

He watched as his older brother left, slightly confused before turning back to Greece.

* * *

"Hey China, wait up!" America zoomed out to catch up with the elder nation, bag flung lazily over his shoulder, England yelling at him to stop running.

During the meeting, America had also been a bit more withdrawn, so much so that the others noticed. He didn't mention being the "Hero" unless someone asked him directly. In addition to that, the self-proclaimed "Hero" hadn't given his opinion much during the meeting, simply sitting there and watching as the others fought.

England was slightly worried about that, yet he just assumed that it was just America growing up. He was quietly grateful, shaking his head as he turned back to his argument with France.

* * *

The smile slid off of China's face as he left the meeting room. He let out a sigh, raising a hand to his face and rubbing his temples.

The meeting had gone the same as usual, and the Asian man knew that not many people noticed how he acted slightly different than per the norm. The monster that England mentioned was on his mind and he couldn't help but not be able to think clearly.

"Hey China, wait up!"

China stopped and waited as America ran up to him. Once they were side-by-side, China began walking once more, the fake smile sliding back onto his face.

"Is there something you needed America aru?" The other nation gazed at him and inwardly, China was shaking.

"You okay? You left much earlier than you usually would." China tilted his head questioningly. He then nodded to America.

"So did you." The other laughed, though it seemed to have a sharp edge to it. The two fell into an awkward silence as they made their way to the front door of the building.

Once they were outside, America followed China to his car and watched as the Asian got in. As he revved the engine, the nation made his way to the driver's window and knocked. China rolled it down and raised an eyebrow.

"You should learn to smile a little more naturally."

He left China with a confused look on his face as he made his way to his own car.

China shook his head as America drove off, rolling up the window once more before pulling out of his parking space and heading home.

* * *

**Here we go…. And yes, I did quote America from HetaOni. :D **


	7. Dark Red

Over the next few days, all China could feel was restlessness.

He would walk around his house, looking for something to do since the last world meeting, America still hadn't called him about when his boss would be free and he had cleaned his house a total of six times.

The nation plopped down onto his couch, groaning as he held his face in his hands.

"_What is wrong with me?" _China sighed, standing from the couch and beginning the walk to the kitchen.

"_I think a glass of water might help."_

He stayed away from the knives after the incident a few weeks ago, quickly moving to the cabinets and pulling out a glass. He took the pitcher of water from the fridge, pouring the cool liquid into the cup before placing it back. Just as he brought the glass to his lips, he couldn't help his eyes roaming over its clear side.

China flinched, eyes widening and the cup falling from his grip. Glass smashed over the floor, water spilling out.

He raised his hands, staring at them in slight shock as they trembled under his gaze. His eyes then returned to the mess. The nation gave his head a forceful shake, grabbing the paper towel by the sink and kneeling on the ground to clean up the water.

China was very careful with the glass, gently picking up the shards and placing them onto the counter. He then wiped up the water and threw out the towel. Turning back to the glass, the Chinese man took the pieces into his hands and stared. He then shook his head furiously once more and the glass followed the wet towel into the garbage.

"_It was only my imagination," _he thought as he returned to the couch, _"Right?"_

China sat down, grabbing the nearby kitty doll that Finland had gotten him for Christmas during World War 2. He shook his head, small smile appearing. Technically, they had Italy to thank for all the gifts they had received. Was it the Italian who had gotten them the presents or Finland aka Santa Clause? He wasn't too sure.

The nation held the doll to his chest, letting out a sigh.

"_It didn't seem like a figment of my imagination," _he continued, lying back on the couch and staring at the ceiling, _"It really did seem like He was right there, with His accusing eyes and frowning face. What did I do to deserve such hatred from someone that I loved?_

"_He seemed to be whispering to me, his monotone voice cold. I-I couldn't recognize it at first. Why was he saying those words? Why?"_

China hastily wiped away the tears with his sleeve. He shouldn't think like this…. Right?

Japan didn't hate him, did he?

No, it simply didn't seem right in any way.

Yet…. No one can tell what Japan thinks in the first place, the younger nation being so vague whenever asked his opinion. He's been like that ever since China first met him in that bamboo forest all those centuries ago.

A lot of time has passed since _that_ time, China reminded himself. A person or nation's opinion could change over such a long period.

Yet, maybe Japan never liked him in the first place. Maybe, his little brother simply was waiting for the right moment.

China shook his head.

That wasn't like Japan at all! But then again, his younger brother's people fought with his own for a long time.

Japan had started the second Sino-Japanese War in 1937, before joining and forming the Axis powers with Germany and Italy, merging both the war in Europe as well as that war between their people. And thus, World War 2 had begun.

China groaned, bringing up a hand to his forehead.

"_I'm probably thinking too much about this…. Maybe, I should go for a walk or something…" _China stood from the couch, gently placing Mr. Kitty down before going to the front door and slipping on his shoes.

He stepped out onto the sunny porch, letting the cool breeze wash over him. With a sad smile, China walked down the front steps and onto the grass. With each step that he took away from his empty home, the nation could feel a non-existent weight on his shoulders being lifted.

As he turned the corner of his street, China looked back at his house only once before he continued on his way. The Asian unconsciously hid his arms in his sleeves, making his way down the sidewalk. Many of the people on the street ducked their way into stores to buy items of all kinds or were rushing down the sidewalk on whatever business they had. He would usually smile, however he just couldn't make it happen.

China found that he was instead slightly annoyed. The noise all around him was too loud and the nation couldn't help but sneer in disgust.

He let his feet lead him away from the crowds, dodging past the pedestrians and street vendors and into one of the back alleys.

The stone walls that currently surrounded him caused a warm feeling to grow within his chest. It gave him a sense of security as he stepped over a puddle of water and further into the darkness. The nation turned the corner of the alley and into a deserted street.

It was completely silent and China couldn't help but feel like he was being watched. The street seemed to have eyes of its own as he continued down the sidewalk. No cars were being driven and the shadows of the alleys seemed to devour the entire road, completely ignoring the sun above. It was as if this part of town was the night to his part of town's day.

The nation could have sworn that he heard a noise behind him as he stopped and tilted his head to try to hear whatever it was. When nothing happened, China continued down the road. Surprisingly, he didn't feel any kind of fear and irrational thoughts didn't plague his mind like he thought they would. He put it off as a coincidence, of the fact that being a nation gave him a sense of safety.

Another sound echoed from behind him, yet China kept calmly walking.

"That_ was certainly _not_ my imagination," _China thought, stopping once more as the sound of a garbage can being knocked over came from behind him. The nation turned around, peering into the darkness with a blank expression. Inside, he felt oddly calm as a figure came out from the shadows.

"Well, well, well," the figure said, giving a rather amused smirk. His baseball cap was on backwards, the dark black fading into the shadows. He wore a black t-shirt, blue jeans, and sneakers.

"Look what we have here boys!" Snickers echoed from all around him and China glanced over his shoulder to the gathering group that began to surround him. The nation returned his gaze to the leader, whose smirk didn't disappear.

"You seem to be lost," the leader mused, tapping his chin as he thought, "Maybe you would like us to _escort_ _you_ back to your side of town?" Once more the thugs laughed. China felt a small smile flicker onto his face for a brief moment before it vanished.

"That would be helpful," he replied, his expression blank, the only indication of emotion being his eyes. The leader noticed how the Asian's brown eyes shone amusedly and he frowned.

"Unfortunately, it might take a while," the leader said instead. China raised an eyebrow. The leader reached into his pocket, pulling out a switchblade and activating it.

"Hand over all the money you have," the man said, "and we might consider letting you go." The others around him pulled out weapons of their own. A reoccurring pattern seemed to be pipes and baseball bats.

"I don't know what you're talking about aru." China shifted so that his weight rested on his left leg.

"That's bullshit!" The leader raised the blade with a glare.

"We can tell from the way you're dressed; you're from the rich part of the neighbourhood. Then you just so happen to wander in here…." China smirked.

"If you want money," he drawled, "then you'll have to take it from my dead body." The nation felt a sense of satisfaction when he saw the leader's surprised expression before it disappeared and was replaced with irritation.

"We'll gladly comply." He then nodded to the thug on China's left. The gang member rushed at him, raising his pipe. The nation glanced over, ducking the blow that was aimed at his head. With calculated precision, China grabbed the thug's outstretched arm, flinging him over his head. The man let out a groan as he hit the wall.

"You were saying aru?" China stood up straight once more, raising his eyebrow in amusement. The leader growled, raising his hand.

"Get him!"

China leaned back, dodging the punch aimed at his head. He grabbed the arm and brought it down on his raised knee. The thug let out a pain-filled cry, falling to the floor and clutching his broken arm. China then ducked another thug's baseball bat, kicking the guy's feet out from under him. He leapt over the next attack, giving a sadistic grin as he punched another thug in the face, breaking his nose.

Blood splattered over the ground and China stiffened in surprise. He fell down to his knees, shaking. Gulping as he stared at the blurring ground, the nation turned his head to look behind him.

The leader stood there with a triumphant grin, the bloody switchblade in his hand.

"Now that we have your attention…." China watched as the man got closer and he couldn't help but chuckle. A grin appeared on his face as he snickered quietly to himself. The thugs all shared expressions of confusion which soon changed to shock as they watch the wound close up.

"Now that I have your attention…"

China gave a dark chuckle before he struck.

* * *

The nation felt the grin on his face fade as he glanced all around him. Blood coated the brick walls and the bodies of the thugs surrounded him.

"_W-What…. What did I do?!" _China could feel his insides freezing as he stared at the dead bodies all around him.

"_H-How…?! I-I don't….! T-This is…." _The nation stared down at the ground.

A soft chuckle rose from the darkness, quickly changing into hysterical laughter.

* * *

It was night by the time China returned home. Blood dripped down from his sleeves and onto his wooden floor. Upon entering the kitchen, he put the syringe that he had found in the leader's pocket on the table.

China then checked his phone. America left a message, most likely the time of the meeting. He would check it later. He didn't bother cleaning up the dripping blood as he made his way up the stairs.

Upon entering his room, China flopped down on his futon, unconscious before he hit the pillow. A satisfied grin was on his face as he dreamed of red.


End file.
